The gorgeous nymph is gone,
She has left our simple island
Where we played in the sun
And drank sweet wine.
She has taken her delicate wrists
And golden bracelets,
Imparted her last kisses;
But in future nights
When we dream
Of the rhythmic swaying of her hips
And how her small, proud breasts
Left us mesmerized and breathless,
She will also dream
Of our child-like smile
Lost in wondrous adoration.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-small-proud-breasts/
